


things that should be unappealing

by nightswatch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which kisses are shared even though Hogwarts is plagued by the yearly flu epidemic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things that should be unappealing

“I’m dying.”

James throws a boot at Sirius. It bounces off the headboard of his bed and lands next to Sirius’s head, entirely ineffective. “Seriously, Pads, if you don’t get your arse out of bed, you’ll miss breakfast.”

Remus doesn’t mention that Sirius isn’t the only one who is about to miss breakfast. An entire Friday separates them from the weekend and the full moon was only a couple of days ago and Remus is convinced that he won’t make it through potions without having breakfast.

“Pads,” Remus says and wanders over to Sirius’ bed. Sirius is lying face down, so Remus gives the back of his head a poke. “We’re leaving without you.” Well, not yet, but Peter is already hovering by the door, so it’s really just a matter of time.

“I told you,” Sirius mumbles into his pillow, “I’m _dying_.”

“You’re not dying,” Remus says decidedly.

Sirius turns his head just a little bit, looking up at Remus with bleary eyes. “I can feel the cold grasp of death around my heart.”

“You’re just not in the mood for double potions,” James grumbles.

Sirius sticks his arm out from under the covers and flips him off.

James curses colourfully under his breath and then pulls at Sirius’ bedsheets with a hoot. Sirius bolts upright, eyes bloodshot, hair sticking out at odd angles. He’s not wearing pyjamas, Remus’ oh-so-observant brain notes. Remus tells his brain to be quiet.

Sirius glares at James and picks up the boot that’s sitting on his pillow, chucking it in the general direction of James, who quickly dives behind his bed.

“Right,” Remus whispers and turns around. Sirius is awake enough to throw boots, so Remus can go have breakfast without feeling guilty. He knows that he shouldn’t, but he decides to let James take care of getting Sirius down to the Great Hall. He just has to hope that the call of breakfast will be strong enough.

Peter trails after him and Remus has just started spreading a generous amount of jam on his toast when James and Sirius squeeze onto the bench next to them. Sirius looks a tad more rumpled than usual, today it’s not the intended sort of rumpled, it’s a _has barely slept and feels like utter crap_ sort of rumpled. James doesn’t look much better, albeit a little more awake. Remus smirks into his pumpkin juice. Sirius and James kept them all up, very loudly discussing and re-enacting Quidditch manoeuvres last night. At least Remus isn’t the only one who’s suffering.

After breakfast, James is a lot more talkative, actually he won’t stop talking at all, which makes it really hard for Remus to concentrate on his potion, but thankfully distracts him from Sirius’ persistent groaning.

When Remus’ potion turns a terrible shade of greenish brown, he actually wants to join Sirius in his groaning. A moment later it starts smoking, which is even more dreadful than the colour. Remus tries to discreetly blow it away, but that only makes matters worse. Lily Evans shoots him a pitying glance through the smoke that turns thicker by the moment. Sirius sneezes and wrinkles his nose.

Professor Slughorn, too, looks slightly alarmed and seems to be trying to decide whether or not he should come to his rescue, but Lily has already stepped over and gently pushes Remus away from his cauldron. James actually has the audacity to look jealous just because Remus is being saved from blowing up the dungeons by James’ one true love.

“It’ll be fine,” Lily says after the smoke has dissipated. “There, it’s almost green.”

“Thank you,” Remus says.

“It won’t be perfect, but–”

“Still better than anything I could have done,” Remus mutters and Lily pats him on the back.

She smiles at him. “Just keep stirring and nothing can go wrong.”

Stirring he can do, stirring he’s good at. Remus thanks Lily one more time before she rushes back to her own potion.

“She touched him,” James whispers to his right.

Remus rolls his eyes and keeps stirring.

“I really don’t feel well,” Sirius says, half-heartedly poking at the flames under his cauldron with his wand. Blue sparks are flying into Sirius’ surprised face. His potion isn’t quite green anymore either. Sirius buries his face in his hands. “I want to go to bed.”

“Soon,” James says longingly.

Remus keeps stirring, not listening as Peter and James discuss something that sounds suspiciously like _dungbombs_ in hushed voices.  

“Really,” Sirius says loudly, “is my head supposed to feel like it’s about to explode?”

James and Peter ignore him for the sake of dungbombs, Remus ignores him for the sake of not blowing up the dungeons.

“Moony.”

Remus stirs. If he keeps stirring, everything will be all right.

“ _Moony_.” Sirius pokes him in the ribs and Remus jumps, part of his potion sloshing onto the table, bubbling and hissing dangerously.

Remus takes a deep breath. Double potions is always a trying time for him, but it is even more so when Sirius insists on being even more difficult than on any other given day. “What?”

“I feel like shit,” Sirius mumbles.

Remus looks over at him and he has to admit that Sirius also _looks_ like shit. Although he somehow still looks handsome. Sirius Black is an enigma that Remus will never be able to fully grasp. “That’s because you didn’t sleep,” Remus says lowly, “ _much_.”

“No, it’s not just that.” Sirius’ expression is absolutely horrified. “I think I’m getting sick.”

“You never get sick.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Sirius whines. “I think I have a fever.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Remus says. Sirius is just being overdramatic, that’s all. He’s used to it.

“Feel my forehead.”

“I can’t.” Remus huffs. “I have to stir.”

“Can you stop stirring for two seconds to determine whether or not I’m actually going to die right here in this dungeon? Because a dungeon is a really horrible place to die and I honestly think my head is about to explode, Moony. My brains will be splattered all over those nasty dripping walls.”

“Will you leave me alone if I feel your forehead?”

“Maybe,” Sirius says, which means no, he won’t.

But there are still twenty minutes left of the lesson and Remus feels that it would be unwise not to at least try to appease Sirius. He reaches out, still stirring with his left hand, the right one feeling Sirius’ forehead. He stops stirring, then. “You’re burning up,” Remus says, forgetting all about his potion. “You need to go see Madame Pomfrey.”

“No way,” Sirius says. He waves his wand dismissively, shooting more sparks in Remus’ direction.

“Sirius,” Remus says and takes a step back. It’s just a precaution, really. 

“Remus,” Sirius says. It seems that he wants to say something else, but his words quickly dissolve into a coughing fit.

Professor Slughorn appears next to their table and, only belatedly, Remus realises that his cauldron has started smoking again. “Don’t forget to stir, Mister Lupin.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but Sirius isn’t feeling very well,” Remus says quickly. If Professor Slughorn sends Sirius to the hospital wing, it’ll only be partly his fault.

Slughorn narrows his eyes at Sirius, probably in an attempt to figure out whether or not he’s just trying to get out of potions early. Sirius really does look miserable, although not due to a lack of sleep as Remus previously suspected.

“I’m...” They never get to hear what exactly Sirius is, because he starts coughing again and it sounds like his lungs are trying to make their way out of his body.

“Yes, Mister Black, why don’t you,” Slughorn fans at the smoke that is still emanating from Remus’ cauldron, “go see Madame Pomfrey. Mister Lupin, be so kind and take him, I’ll be taking care of your potion.” He looks like it physically pains him to call the concoction that Remus has cooked up an actual potion.

Remus, for one, is glad to get out of that lesson, even if it means that he has to drag an uncooperative Sirius up to the hospital wing and has to listen to Sirius trying to convince Madame Pomfrey that he’s not actually sick but just really, really hot. There is a lot of winking involved and Remus is sure that he is about to die from second-hand embarrassment.

Madame Pomfrey, unsurprisingly, is unimpressed and sets down a steaming mug in front of Sirius nose. “Drink this,” she says and then puts another one down in front of Remus. “You as well.”

“But I’m fine,” Remus protests. He had the pleasure of having to force one of Madame Pomfrey’s potions down his throat only a couple of days ago.

“Pre-emptive measures, Mister Lupin.”

They both do as they were told – apparently Sirius has admitted defeat – and Madame Pomfrey mutters angrily about the yearly flu epidemic. “Well, Mister Black, I think it’s for the best if you stay here and–”

“Can’t I just go back to the Tower?” Sirius asks, trying what he calls his irresistible smile that has given him the opportunity to stay with Remus after many a full moon long past the regular visiting hours. “Please? I mean, the others probably have whatever I have already.” He sniffles. And he has a point, even though Remus isn’t too elated about the prospect of also becoming a sniffling mess soon enough.

Anyway, Madame Pomfrey won’t be able to keep everyone who has the flu in the hospital wing and she looks like she’s caving. Apparently, Sirius is still utterly charming, even when he looks pale and sweaty and basically like he’s about to drop dead any second now. Maybe that’s why Madame Pomfrey eventually sends him back to Gryffindor Tower. Last wishes and all.

Remus goes with him, just to make sure that Sirius doesn’t die on the way. Sirius’ head has barely hit the pillow when he’s already asleep, mumbling something that Remus doesn’t quite catch. Remus allows himself to look down at Sirius for a moment and then carefully tucks him in, although there’s no reason for him to be careful since Sirius probably wouldn’t wake up even if a potion exploded right next to his head.

“Sleep well,” Remus says lowly, taking a step back. There’s hair all over Sirius’ face and he’s drooling and Remus shouldn’t find it endearing in the slightest. He shouldn’t. There are so many things wrong with this situation and he knows it. He also ought to get back to class; he can only hope that James or Peter didn’t leave his and Sirius’ bags down in the dungeons.

“I think I’m getting sick, too,” James says, entirely convinced, when Remus catches up with him and Peter in Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall only sighs when Remus tells her that Sirius has the flu, as if she’s been expecting it to happen for quite some time. Remus supposes that the yearly flu epidemic is actually a thing, except that he’s missed out on said thing up until now, because he usually doesn’t get sick, or at least it doesn’t take very long for him to recover. It’s the same with his injuries after the full moon. It’s one of the side-effects that aren’t entirely unwelcome.

James coughs, although it sounds so fake that Remus doesn’t even pretend to be concerned. “Do you think Evans will come to my funeral?” James asks.

Remus decides not to get involved when James starts instructing Peter on what to mention in his eulogy. He also remembers last year’s flu epidemic now. James was insufferable for days even though Madame Pomfey’s potion made sure that he was perfectly fine after about a day or two.

Surprisingly, Remus makes it through the rest of his classes without having to murder James. There are actually quite a few people missing during dinner and Remus can’t quite tell whether it’s down to everyone slowly but surely succumbing to the yearly flu epidemic or if there’s something else happening that Sirius would undoubtedly know about. Remus would ask James but he’s currently preoccupied with convincing everybody that the flu has claimed him as its next victim. Lily Evans doesn’t seem to be too bothered by James’ alleged imminent death.

After an embarrassingly long debate with himself, Remus decides to pay Sirius a visit while James and Peter start a round of Wizard’s chess. They don’t even notice when he leaves. Remus just to make sure that Sirius is doing all right. If he’s still asleep, Remus promises himself, he’ll leave right away and won’t stand there gaping like this morning.

The dormitory is dark when Remus sneaks inside, except for the fire that’s burning in the chimney. The lump in Sirius’ bed moves when the door clicks shut behind Remus.

“Prongs,” Sirius says. “Prongsie. Prongster, is that you?”

Remus clears his throat. “No, it’s me.” He takes a step closer and Sirius’ head appears from under the covers.

“Moony,” Sirius says, sounding a little more delighted than Remus expected. “I think I’ve actually died and turned into a ghost. Am I see-through? I feel see-through. Is _see-through_ a feeling?”

“I gather you’re still feeling terrible?” Remus asks. He sits down on his own bed, legs pulled up against his chest.

“No need to look so smug,” Sirius says. “You should be feeding me soup and stroking my hair.”

Remus isn’t quite ready to admit to himself that the thought of that isn’t entirely unappealing. He rolls his eyes to keep himself from thinking about it. “You’ll be feeling much better tomorrow morning.”

“Only if you stroke my hair,” Sirius says, batting his eyelashes at him.

Remus’ throat feels dry all of a sudden. “Madame Pomfrey’s potions work wonders, believe me.”

“I was really bored without you.”

Remus doesn’t really believe him, because as far as he knows, Sirius has slept all day. “James was really bored without you, too.”

Sirius looks at him for a long moment, just looks at him, then he yawns.

“Do you need anything?” Remus asks when the silence starts to grow a little too uncomfortable for his taste.

“Will you drop a dungbomb on Snape’s head if I ask you to?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a cup of tea or more soup,” Remus says.

Sirius makes a face like Remus has gravely disappointed him, then he goes back to staring at him.

Remus clears his throat. “Well, if you don’t need anything, I’ll just...” Well, there must some essay that he needs to take care of.

“Moony,” Sirius whines, “don’t leave me.”

Remus only sighs.

“My feet are cold,” Sirius says.

“Well, that’s hardly surprising,” Remus mumbles and gets up to pull Sirius’ blanket back over his feet.

Sirius coughs. “Actually, the rest of me is really cold as well.” He turns to look at Remus, who is still hovering by the end of his bed.

Entirely unbidden, his brain decides to remind Remus of the last full moon, the morning after in the shack, and Sirius wrapping a blanket and then his arms around him to make sure he wasn’t cold. Remus knows that this isn’t his fault, because Sirius was there because he wanted to be, but he wasn't wearing a jacket and it was freezing in the shack.

“I could get you another blanket,” Remus tries, but he already knows that that’s not what Sirius wants. It’s a game they’re playing. Well, Sirius is playing, Remus is still trying to figure out the rules. Sirius is being suggestive and flirts with him and touches him and, objectively speaking, Remus knows what Sirius is doing, the problem is that he’s never really sure how to react. Except for quiet panicking. He’s rather good at quiet panicking.

Sirius pouts. “Remus.”

Remus hates the way Sirius says his name. Because he says it with purpose, like it’s his favourite word to say and Remus always has a hard time denying him anything as long as his requests don’t have anything to do with dungbombs and Sirius _knows_. “Fine, move over,” Remus says and slips under the covers with Sirius.

It takes him a few seconds of the aforementioned quiet panicking and he tries very hard not to think about what might happen if James or Peter found them like this. Remus loses his train of thought when Sirius hums and snuffles against his neck. It’s the worst kind of torture and there’s no way that Sirius is cold, his skin is burning and Remus isn’t sure how he’s going to survive lying next to him for more than, say, a minute. Because if he stays for longer than a minute, Remus might actually start stroking Sirius’ hair.

“So...” Remus says. He can’t stay still; he can’t just lie here and wait for the quiet panicking to start again.

Sirius huffs and his breath is warm against Remus’ neck. “Please don’t tell me about all the homework I have to catch up on.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Are you sure about that? Because that was definitely your serious _I want to live in the library and lick books_ voice.”

“I said _one_ word,” Remus mutters. Anyway, Sirius – well, Padfoot – is the one who always tries to lick everyone and everything.

“See, that’s how well I know you,” Sirius says and Remus can feel that his lips are dangerously close to his skin.

“Are you still cold?” Remus asks, because he really can’t think of anything better.

“A bit,” Sirius replies and shifts even closer, which Remus didn’t think was actually possible. But now the tip of Sirius’ nose is poking into his cheek and Remus isn’t sure if he wants to find out what would happen if he turned his head right now. Sirius’ fingers tug at his jumper.

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Remus says, “you know, get some rest.” And give him a chance to escape.

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” Sirius grumbles. His lips brush against Remus’ jaw.

Perhaps Remus should turn his head after all, because maybe then they can stop playing this game that Remus is so utterly terrible at. He takes a deep breath. Sirius jerks away and sneezes.

“Bless you,” Remus says flatly. 

“Sorry,” Sirius says, smiling sheepishly, and then goes on to noisily blow his nose. He flops down again, halfway draped over Remus. “Where were we?”

“You were...” Remus bites his lip. “I was... You sneezed.”

“Before that,” Sirius says, his voice low, and Remus honestly can’t believe that he’s falling for this, even though Sirius is sick and sniffling and all of this should probably be at least somewhat unappealing.

But it isn’t and now Remus really wants to find out what would happen if he turned his head, so he does. Sirius’ face is right next to his, his expression smug. Remus doesn’t move and Sirius barely has to either for his lips to find Remus’. As first kisses go, Remus thinks it’s not a bad one, although he lacks the experience to tell for sure.

When Sirius pulls away he looks like he’s just executed the finest prank in the history of Hogwarts, only Remus hopes that this wasn’t a prank and that it’s going to happen again, preferably in the near future.

“I...” Remus says. He has questions, but he also knows that right now is not the time to ask them. “Are you sure you don’t want any tea?” he asks instead.

“Moony, where are your manners, you can’t just kiss a bloke and then run off,” Sirius mutters. “Your mother would be appalled.”

Remus assumes that this is Sirius’ way of asking him to stay for a while longer, so he moves his arm, just enough so he can tangle his fingers in Sirius’ hair. He tries not to think about what just happened or about what’s going to happen next.

“See, that’s much better,” Sirius says. “Stop thinking, Moony, you’re going to give yourself a headache.”

“Maybe it’s your incessant talking that’s going to give me a headache.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find a way to make me stop,” Sirius says. “You’re smart like that.”

Well, Remus does have a few ideas.


End file.
